


Anchored

by SemiSolace



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Phantom Hourglass, The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Link (Legend of Zelda) Needs a Hug, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, There's A Tag For That
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 07:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23467456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SemiSolace/pseuds/SemiSolace
Summary: After he killed Ganon, Link expected many things. He expected to go home. He expected Tetra to sail off and never be seen again. He expected his old, normal life back. But some changes are irreversible and the sea has far more in store than the statue of a dead king. He never expected to return to his home only to have to leave it again, but life had never been kind to the Hero.
Relationships: Aryll & Link (Legend of Zelda), Link & Tetra, Link & Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 55





	Anchored

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Just want to quickly apologise if I've accidently used the Spirit Tracks name for any of the characters since I very nearly didn't notice that I'd been doing that.  
> But yeah! This is just a little one shot thingy that's meant to bridge the gap between Wind Waker and Phantom Hourglass in a way that (I hope) explains why Link had to leave the family he spent the whole game trying to save... :D

Returning to normal was supposed to be the easy part.

It was over, they'd won, he'd defeated Ganon. That was it.

For a while, he'd even believed it. He'd watched the pirate ship glide off until it was swallowed by the horizon, and he'd stood on the beach with one arm hugging Aryll's shoulders like he thought she might be snatched away again, and he'd waved until his sword arm had gone numb.

Then, they'd turned and walked away from the sea and gone home. 

The first few days were exactly like he'd expected. Hours of sunshine and playing with Aryll in the long grass, the sea breeze carrying laughter instead of screams. Quiet evenings of watching sunsets through the telescope, and pointing out the early stars to his sister, just like he'd promised he would before everything had happened.

His grandmother's soup was the same, the creak of the floorboards in their hut was the same. The villagers had carried on with their simple lives, content. The island and the people on it were the same. It took him far too long to realise that he was the one who was different. 

That's how the falling apart started.

It started with the sense of duty leaving, vanishing with the swell of the sea, ripped from him with the same certainty as knowing that he'd never hear the King of Red Lions again. It left an emptiness he hadn't expected. He told himself it was just the relief. He told himself it was fine. 

Then came the odd looks. It puzzled him at first. Everything was fine, everything was normal. He'd won, it was over. There wasn't any need for people he'd known since before he'd learned to walk to glance at him twice, to take a step back when he approached.  
It stung, before he figured out why. 

Or rather, he didn't figure it out, it was pointed out and it felt like a punch to the gut. It went like this: the day started normally, the sea still crashed against the shore, the wind still whispered through the grass, and that morning before he left the house, Link's Grandmother stopped him. 

Her face was soft with something that looked too close to pity for comfort, which sent a thrill of unease through his blood. Then she asked in that carefully not broken voice, the same soft tone she'd used to ask if he'd be going with the pirates to chase after the monster that took Aryll, if he'd like to leave his sword at home today. 

He hadn't even realised that it was still strapped to his back, the weight of it had become familiar. The Master Sword slept beneath the sea, but he'd replaced it with the best blade he could find on the long trip back to Outset and it wasn't quite perfect, but it'd felt right at the time. Before he could even respond, his Grandmother forced a hollow laugh and told him to go and join Aryll outside, that it didn't matter. She turned away before Link could see her face crumple into pity, but he felt it all the same. 

He started to notice, then. The way that familiar faces would have their gaze flicker to the sword at his back, then to his face, and back again. Like a dance.  
Figuring out why made the sting into more of a gaping wound, one he was beginning to realise had maybe been there all along. 

Next, came the memories. 

One day, nearly two weeks after they'd returned back to the island, he'd been crouched on the beach with Aryll and the other children, looking for shells in the shallows, when a wave swelled unexpectedly large, and crashed too near, too close, and before he could jump away, his feet were soaked-

-soaked as he kicked up water, scrambling away from the figure looming over him. His eyes circled, one gleaming sword to the other, then the sharper smirk on Ganon's face. He didn't look back at Tetra, he still couldn't really think of her as Zelda, because he didn't know if she was as scared as he was, and he didn't want to know. And, if he looked away from Ganon, that moment might cost him his life, because there was a blur of silver as a sword arced towards him and-

-and he leapt away from Aryll's touch, where she'd been reaching out to grab his hand, like she could tug him from the memory, skidding through the sand, hand reaching for his sword and it was as easy as breathing. 

He blinked, and the evil king was gone, leaving only the sword trembling in his grip and the terrified children cowering in front of him, with shells dropped forgotten at their feet. Their eyes did that dance. From the blade to his face, and he couldn't tell which was scaring them more. The wound that wasn't real widened. 

He sheathed his sword, laughed it off and they carried on. But he stayed well away from the water, the kids were still a shade too pale once they headed home and his heartbeat didn't calm until there was a closed door between him and the smell of the sea. 

He very carefully didn't think about what might have happened if he hadn't fought free of the memory. He didn't think of what he might have done. 

The next day, he was more determined than ever to be normal. He resolved to leave the sword neatly at the end of his bed, and set off just as dawn broke to check the letter box to see if Tetra had responded to his latest letter yet. 

He made it ten steps. His shoulders felt too light, too exposed. The shadows were long and rushing at him, each rustle of leaves was too loud, something was coming, something was stalking through the shade. 

The sense of duty was gone, and in its place was fear. 

He lurched back to the house in uneven steps, and was just aware enough not to slam the door shut so he wouldn't- alert anything that was lurking, watching, waiting- wake his Grandmother and sister. 

Link spent that day by the warmth of the fire, and shivering from something that wasn't cold. He kept his sword strapped firmly to his back, and listened to the familiar cries of the seagulls, pretending that he wasn't hearing the dying shriek of the Helmaroc King instead.  
The nightmares started soon after- or maybe they'd always been happening, but now he was noticing, now he couldn't push it all away and pretend he was fine. 

Sometimes it was a ghost, looming and rolling like a cloud with cold, dead eyes. Sometimes, it was the sand, shifting beneath him and a terrible, terrible cry. Sometimes a glowing purple hand closed around a small, squirming forest spirit. Sometimes, a flickering ship crashed through waves without making a sound. 

His Grandmother didn't comment on the circles under his eyes, but her face looked greyer by the day, and she stopped trying to hide her concern or pity. Aryll insisted that going out to play would help, face brightening in a hopeful smile that he hadn't truly seen since the day she gave him the telescope, and he couldn't bring himself to say no. 

He didn't leave the sword behind, and his Grandmother didn't stop him. 

The whispers had started while he'd been tucked away, by the fire. _Dangerous_ , the adults said, keeping a wary eye on him as they tended their crops. _Disturbed_ , they whispered, peering at the sword still strapped to his back. 

"We're not allowed to play with you anymore." One of Aryll's friends had told her glumly, but they were looking at Link when they spoke. 

Aryll told him that it was fine, and she'd only wanted to play with her big brother anyway, and had led him towards the place he'd first spotted the giant bird carrying the bravest pirate he knew. There wasn't a shred of fear on his sister's face, and they spent the day watching the clouds and he'd tell stories. 

He'd tell her about the little forest spirit that'd practice a song behind a waterfall, and leave out the haunting notes of a sage's song. Or he'd talk about the fairies that burst from the water to help him, not the evils they were helping him fight.  
Or he'd talk about the fancy island with the funny door that talked. It'd seemed innocent enough at the time. He'd forgotten about the labyrinth beneath the island until his mind was trapped there, turning corners in the musty air, and he'd pulled himself through a hole into a dim room, only to find rotting faces with eyes that moved.  
Only when his sister nudged his arm did he realise that he'd frozen, even though the wails of the ReDeads weren't real. 

It was almost fitting, that it was that very evening that the attacks started. Tetra's latest letter had included a mention that there had been more monsters at sea than usual lately, a brief thought that perhaps it had something to do with the death of Ganon. 

_You should be safe_ , she'd written in her messy scrawl (it was so unlike how he'd expected a princess to write that it'd torn a laugh out of him the first time he saw it), _Outset is a quiet island, I doubt the monsters will find you there_. 

But find him the monsters did. He was torn from a light, fitful slumber by a scream. It wasn't Tetra's scream of fear whenever a wicked sword carved through the air a fraction too close to his face. (He'd been too scared for screaming, but he'd fought on anyway. It hadn't felt like courage at the time, but he supposed it was.) It only took the pale face of his grandmother and the wide eyes of his sister to confirm that the screaming was real- that it wasn't just a figment of memory he had yet to place- and he was charging into the dusk without a second thought. 

Whatever the monsters were, they'd come from the sea. There was seaweed stuck to their scales and they had torn fins attached to their clawed arms. Their yellow eyes gleamed with malice as they raced through the lengthening shadows. 

Some of the villagers were trying to herd them off with pitchforks. It wasn't working, and they were the source of the screams he'd heard earlier. 

Combat, it turned out, was familiar in all the ways that the island hadn't been. Picking out the weak points of the monsters was a second nature, and they weren't even close to the same level as Ganon had been. 

A new danger his mind could latch on to forced the memories away. He made quick work of the sea beasts. 

He watched almost detached as the magic that had sustained them crumbled, and the only sign that they'd even been there was the black blood on his sword and the sand. Their bodies turned into smoke, and Link didn't have to stand near it to feel that it was cold. 

The villagers watched from a distance. Link wiped the blood from his sword with practiced ease, and marched over to them wordlessly. They were frozen- in fear or awe he couldn't tell- and he inspected them for injuries. Only shallow gashes. Whatever the monsters were, their claws weren't poisoned. 

He told those who'd fought to clean their wounds, and bandage them. Then he'd turned, clambered up the ladder and sat through the night to watch the sea for signs of life. It was easier than the nightmares, anyway.

And in it's own way, protecting was familiar too. 

That was day one of the attacks. By day five, he'd remembered the dungeon, and wondered if something in there was the cause. 

The villagers were becoming worn. Their children were either kept in the relative safety of their homes or were kept by their parents as they tended their farms. It made Aryll sad, and she looked afraid. 

The wound that wasn't really there throbbed. 

Even the Rito who delivered Tetra's latest letter and took Link's own noticed that something was wrong. Link didn't recognise him, but he recognised Link, and knew enough of the tales of the hero that saved his home to be concerned. 

"Is there," The Rito said hesitantly as Link thanked him for the letter, "anything I or my people can do to help you here? You look..." 

He trailed off as Link shook his head. Nearby, people had stilled to listen to them. He knew more than them, and they knew it. They knew he wasn't telling them everything, that he was hiding things. Sometimes, a merchant would pass the island and they'd have a story of the things he'd done to defeat Ganon. It was harder for them to smile as he passed these days.

Link shrugged and mentioned that he hoped that the attacks would stop soon, but he'd let the Rito know. The postman bowed his head, and promised to get the letter delivered as soon as possible, if it would help at all. Link smiled as the postman flew away. The Rito had always been kind to him. 

_They only seem to come out at night. Maybe it's the darkness. We'll come swing by, see if we have the same problem after all. Some other ships have been targeted. I'll ask them too._ Tetra had written, and there was a small spark of warmth in his chest at the thought of seeing her. 

The next day, he left before dawn. The villagers had started a watch, and the monsters mostly came at night. Link's own shift had been earlier that evening, so he could get some rest in the night. 

(He pretended he didn't hear his Grandmother's sharp, angry sigh every time he left. "He's a child!" She'd snarled at the villagers who'd assembled to talk about who would have what shift. It'd been a rare outburst from the respected elder. "Shame on you, having him fight your battles."  
"He's the best of us at fighting them off. We need him." Had been the grave response. )

It was easy enough to sneak past the watch- he had the practice after all. And the route was familiar, although there wouldn't be a piece of the Triforce tucked away this time. He tried to tell himself that it wasn't the same sense of duty, sense of guilt driving him forwards, but it rang hollow, even to him. 

The hours of fighting shouldn't have felt as easy as they did. Gone were the eyes of the villagers and gone were the memories that plagued him. This, at least, he could fight.  
He lost count of the monsters he killed, but there was nothing like the monsters that had emerged from the sea, and nothing to call them to the island. There was nothing so old or cold in the musty air, even at the very end. 

Still, he took the weird mask from its place. It didn't feel evil at all, only a vague, old rhythm of magic lived in the mask. 

He returned to the village to find that it was mid-morning. The Sun beat down on the exhausted village, and his Grandmother and Aryll were waiting for him. They didn't ask where he'd been, and he didn't tell them. 

They probably knew from the look on his face that he wasn't sure that it'd worked.  
He wondered if it was as simple as that. Or if the uncertainty that he'd seen with the villagers had crept into his family, too. Did he still know how to talk to them? Did they still know how to talk to him? 

So he spoke to them, that day. No monsters ventured out in the light, and he told them of his journeys without the bad parts. Aryll mentioned that the pirates had been nice to her, and Gonzo had sat with her, and talked to her about what had happened. 

Whatever he'd said, it'd helped, somewhat. His sister wasn't okay yet, but he knew that she would be. Link kept finding that he trusted the pirates more than he realised. He'd trusted Tetra with his life when they fought the evil king together, and he'd trusted the pirates with Aryll by letting them take her to safety. It'd been the right choice, he realised. 

The attacks didn't stop. 

There was no pretending things were okay or normal. Two nights after he cleared out the dungeon, he grabbed a small fishing boat at the start of his dusk watch, and sailed far enough from the island that he could still reach in time if there was an emergency, but just far enough that he was separate from it. 

The monsters circled. Their dark fins sliced through the waves and their gleaming eyes flickered in the darkness. Link picked them off one by one with his bow, almost detached from it all. He couldn't see the dark blood in the water: the moonlight was too pale for that.  
Not once, did the monsters turn towards the island. There was no hiding from it, no denying it anymore. They were there for him.  
He did that every night, until the pirates arrived, and watched as the island put itself back together with eyes bright with relief and his family fell apart. 

Once, his Grandmother asked if he wanted to talk about the nightmares that woke him up screaming. Link stared at her in silence, until she sighed, an old, broken sound. She pretended that his refusal hadn't hurt her as she bustled around making tea to calm them down in the early hours of the morning. Aryll pretended she wasn't scared to have been woken up by her big brother screaming. And Link pretended he was okay with it all. 

Yes, the pirates arriving was certainly a relief. 

Link struggled to remember a time he had been happier than when he was stood on the beach of Outset island, hugging Tetra who had a bright smile on her face instead of that smug smirk for once. 

Aryll and her friends (things were normal now, they'd play with her again, as long as Link wasn't with her) had hovered nearby, ready to tease him, but the Hero and the Princess clung to each other like they were drowning, but it had been weeks since Aryll had seen her brother that happy, so she herded them away to watch seagulls instead.

Link barely noticed. He was with Tetra again and she was here and the monsters hadn't got her and there was something odd about it, the way he could believe that things were going to be alright as long as he was with her.

Of course, even that soured, when they stood on the ship and talked business. 

"Whatever they are, they're going after people with magic. The ships that were attacked had mages on them, and the monsters left once they dragged the ones capable of magic away. So they're after us, because-" 

She cut herself off and looked at her hand. There was a scar there, where the Triforce had been, and he had one to match it. _Because of us_ , she didn't say it but he heard it all the same, _because of what we had to do_.

"I don't know how to stop it, Link. I'm sorry." 

Link just shrugged. He hadn't expected her to stop anything, just like she hadn't expected answers from him. That was simply how it worked, how it'd always worked. 

"They say it's a ship. A ghost ship, that the monsters drag those with magic back there and they don't come back. The monsters must come from there." 

Then that was what they had to do. They would go after the ship together and whatever it was, they'd survive it and they'd fix this. She took one look at his face and smiled. 

"I thought you'd do that. You're thinking of coming with us to go after it." 

He nodded. He wouldn't let her do it alone, and she wouldn't let him go by himself. They protected each other, it was how they'd survived Ganon and he'd follow her to the end of the world if she needed him to. 

"We can tell the crew there's a treasure there or something. It worked before." She reminded him with a grin. He remembered that exact smile in the dim corners of a bomb shop, and he could believe it in that moment, that everything would turn out okay. 

So he didn't ask her how long she thought it would take. He didn't ask if she thought it would be worse than Hyrule, if it would even really fix things, if there would ever be a normal again.

Instead, he asked about the promise she'd made, just before she'd sailed off with the pirates for what they both thought had been forever.

"A home on this ship? For good? Of course the offer still stands, you idiot!" She laughed, before her face fell. "You're not asking because of the monsters, are you? We can still do something even if this ghost ship isn't the answer. Maybe-" 

But he was already shaking his head. 

It wasn't just the monsters at all. He thought of how the dreams hadn't stopped and the occasional odd look. He thought of scared children at the wrong end of his sword- since when did a hero stop protecting the innocent- and the same sword he couldn't seem to live without anymore. 

He thought of Aryll's scared eyes and his Grandmother's sad looks. 

(Tetra had taken one look at his face, and had seemed to understand in a way that no one else on the island had.)

His stay was hurting them. It was costing Aryll her happiness, her childhood and most importantly, her recovery. He couldn't keep scaring her by waking up screaming, he couldn't keep spacing out, getting lost in his memories. 

He'd left his home once before to ensure his sister's safety, and he'd do it again. Except, even when everything had seemed okay, in those first few days, Outset hadn't felt quite like the home he'd left what felt like years ago, to face the Helmaroc King. 

He asked if they could tell the islanders that it was just another adventure, to make his leaving easier on all of them. It'd keep away the worst of the guilt and the protests.  
Aryll and his Grandmother protested enough for all the island, though. 

"Do you have to go?" His little sister had whispered, with tears welling in her eyes. He'd hugged her, then, but nodded firmly. 

"Haven't you done enough for them?" His Grandmother asked him as she filled a jar with soup for him for the journey. "Haven't you done enough fighting? I worry, you know." 

He didn't say that he'd be fighting a very different kind of battle. Not one with swords. Not one that left wounds that were really there, really bleeding, but hurt all the same. 

Tetra took his hand as the ship pulled away from the island. Link had promised to write at least three times, but still felt a lump in his throat as the island shrunk into the horizon and it became harder and harder to see Aryll's small form as she waved, with their Grandmother standing next to her, watching in silence. 

"I'll be back when it's all over." He'd told them, and it'd been the truth. 

"It'll all be okay, you'll see." Tetra said, her voice warm, like she could see his doubts. And Link believed her. 

One day, it'd all be over. One day.


End file.
